Ransom (Benson Security 4)

“Tie those two above the rope with the netting, side by side, but about a foot apart. Then if you could grab some palm leaves to rest on top of th

em, that would be great. It will give us a little shelter if it starts to rain.”

With a shake of his head—in awe at her genius, she presumed—he helped her tie off the ropes. The light was dim now, and the noise of the forest had amped up several notches. Belinda heard animal sounds she hadn’t heard before the birds fell silent. Owls called to each other; small creatures began to scratch their way along the forest floor; bats squawked above them. The forest had turned sinister with the fading light.

“Better go use the facilities before it gets too dark to see,” John said with a hint of amusement in his voice.

She didn’t see what was funny about it. Belinda didn’t like using the facilities in the jungle. Peeing behind a tree meant baring her bum to the wildlife. Unfortunately, she’d drunk a lot of water and there was no way she could sleep on a full bladder. Still, the forest was looking pretty darn dark. Earlier in the day, John had gone behind another tree at a distance from her, but she didn’t like the thought of losing sight of him in the dark.

“Will you guard me?” Yes. She was that pathetic.

“From what?” His lips twitched. He was playing with her. Teasing her. So now it was okay not to be serious and focused on their mission.

“I’d really like it if you stood in front of me, with your back to me. You can put your fingers in your ears, so you don’t hear anything, but keep your eyes peeled in case something decides to take a bite out of my backside.” There. That should be clear enough for him.

His eyes crinkled and his lips went suspiciously tight. She could have sworn he was trying not to laugh at her. “Put my fingers in my ears?”

“I’d really rather you didn’t listen to me do my business.”

His lips twitched again.

“And don’t look. At me, I mean. Look at the forest.”

He turned from her, but she caught his grin before he managed to hide it again. “Come on. We wait any longer and we’ll both get eaten.” He swatted at his neck. “By more than the mosquitoes.”

They walked behind a giant kapok tree, with its strange roots. The buttress root “walls” were taller than she was and came out from the tree at an angle, making wedge-shaped spaces between them. Belinda pointed to one of the cubicle shapes made by the buttress roots. “I’ll go there. You stand at the entrance.”

“With my fingers in my ears. I know.”

She watched him until he turned his back on her. He made no move to put his fingers in his ears. “Joh—Beast!”

“Fine.” He lifted his hands to his ears.

There was no time to lose. Belinda undid her stolen jeans and, with her back to the tree and her front to John, squatted. And nothing happened. Her bladder was full, but it didn’t want to cooperate. Not while she knew he could be listening. There was only one thing for it. She started to sing. Loudly. And the only song she could remember in that second, was “Row, Row, Row Your Boat.”

John started to turn back towards her. “What the—”

“Don’t look!” she screeched.

He jerked back around. “Why are you singing?”

“I don’t want you to hear. I need cover noise. Put your fingers in your ears and let me get on with it!”

He stuck his fingers in his ears as she began to sing again, but she could have sworn that his shoulders were shaking. Once she was finished, she took a tissue out of her tiny bag and thanked the Lord that she didn’t have to use a leaf to clean up. Then she used a wet wipe to wash up her hands. She was done.

She took a few steps forward and tapped John on the shoulder. He didn’t jump, which made her think he hadn’t blocked his hearing after all.

“I’m done.”

“What a relief.”

“Do you want me to guard you?” Belinda felt it was only polite to offer.

His grin was wide. “I think I’ll manage, Hollywood.” And he sauntered towards another partitioned area under the tree.

Belinda grumbled about men under her breath as she stomped the few feet back to their tiny camp. It wasn’t fair that they could do their business standing and didn’t have to bare their backsides to the world. Belinda had long thought that men would be a whole lot more sympathetic if they were the ones who had to sit down to pee. Let them sit on a public toilet seat and deal with the trauma. That kind of experience softened a person.

While John was gone, Belinda toed off her shoes and shrugged out of her jeans and dress. She hung everything, shoes included, over the rope above the hammock, but under the mosquito net. The last thing she wanted was to wake up to shoes full of bugs.